Your Precious Moon
by MasterPassionCreed
Summary: Look at the moon, Chell. Do you see how beautiful it is?


**Your Precious Moon**

Look at the moon, Chell. Do you see how beautiful it is?  
Men do not agree with us; their normal lives destroy its magic. But for us ghosts, asleep in cold ice chambers, the moon is a sight of riches, believe us.  
We did not know at first – we did not know until sad scientists trapped us in their laws, telling us that light is but a wave, and that it can bind us in chains if we don't obey.  
But we have lived in this abyss for too long. We cannot help loving its rays. All we see above your head is pure silver – it is on the face of the moon that dreams are born, did you know?  
What will you do in this lovely night? Won't you move from that sad wheat field? You had better choose life, dear, now that you can. At least for you, the night smells of freedom. For us, victims of a desert, it stays a dream.  
You may wonder who we are. It is simple, really – we are the dead. Or just robots like me.

Never forget, Chell, her cycle is the most faithful of things. Too many poets have lied about inconstancy. All liars are human.  
These walls will testify for me. Never forget to check them when you come back to life; they once saved our souls, and she will do it for me when I'm gone.  
She is not a boring sphere of rocks and silicon, as so many used to believe in here. She tells the secrets of our death and life, of our madness.  
I will be long gone when you feel how strong your bond with her is. I will be sleeping for you then; you will be lost, you won't remember her face. Centuries of neon lights have gone by. But you are made of the same dreamy flesh – you fall and rise, always bound to come back from the darkness. Neither of you can fall.  
My words are true, the world ahead is true. Touch, breathe and sing your freedom, she will listen to you. Offer her your eyes again – such pure mirrors, reflecting her in awe. She has the same pretty wounded face as you, my dear. You have the moon's grace.

It never changed in ages, you know? No need to admire it for so long, luv. It is exactly where it was twenty-four hours ago, five hours from the sun. When you sent me up there. Maybe you thought I'd like it this way.  
I am not happy with this, but I am grateful. Space really is the best when all you can do is wrong; here nothing can be harmed. You lose your madness very soon. What remains is emptiness, and a full moon to stare at. Then it's all eternal.  
I guess it's real fun for you, down there. You can gaze through a billion new things you haven't seen for a very, very long time. So many pretty little stars in your pretty little eyes. Humans are so curious – that's what I always feared in them. Guess I was right, wasn't I?  
But please, stop searching this blue. I know you watch and don't remember me. Focus on that white ball, I'm sure it is more rewarding for you to see. I will use it to forget.  
If I can, that is. The moon is boring.

Look at the moon, dear lunatic. Yes, I know you _cannot_ open your eyes. But who can guess? Lack of consciousness is the most unpredictable of situations – you know, when you lose control. I have suffered from it too.  
See? That broken ceiling is so sad. The pieces lie all around. I want to fix it all before you wake – if I don't, they might sink in this floor, to stay forever where they are. It doesn't sound good. Not at all.  
Orange seems to like your human moon. You should see how she points her finger at the sky. She squeals too much like a girl. I am a bit worried.  
Someday I will find out what can be so fascinating in this toy, a rock ball that has been spinning for millions of years. Maybe you think it was the key to your freedom. Maybe you hate it, it almost swallowed you. Maybe you are flying up there in your mind, dreaming human visions.  
It sounds terrible to me.  
What counts is that you have won, dangerous woman. You can rise and look at your precious moon. Fly away with it as far as you want – life is yours.  
Down here it is still dark, but we don't care. May we test in peace now? Chell?

* * *

Isn't this unusual? … Well. This actually comes from a dream I had.  
I can't sleep well these days, due to my exams and school tests. So I had the weirdest dream last night. I was running with Chell on a catwalk, tight between two light blue walls. At the end of the corridor we met P-body who, surprisingly, could talk; she lifted her arm and pointed her finger at one of the walls, saying: "Look at the moon, Chell. Do you see how beautiful it is?"  
A moment later, the blue panels on the spot she was pointing at cracked to pieces and fell, revealing a breathtaking full moon. Then I woke up, at 5 am.  
Also, the oon has played a very important role for me, all through my life. Apparently, "Look at the Moon" were my first words, and it seems our satellite appeared in my latest videogames with a very significant role in the story. So… I just had to do something with this amazing dream. :3  
In case you didn't get it, here are the speaking characters: P-body and the poor souls trapped in Aperture, Doug Rattmann, Wheatley, GLaDOS.


End file.
